


Aftercare

by Teeelsie



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: 4x19, 4x21, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, episode tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 17:29:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2356592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teeelsie/pseuds/Teeelsie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'But, this was what they did, he supposed, they cared for each other and they took care of each other.'</p><p>Danny and Steve, in Afghanistan and after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftercare

**Author's Note:**

> Like others, I was never really satisfied with how easily Danny walked away from 4.19, so this is my catharsis. This could be read as a prequel of sorts to 'The Shocks of Adversity,' I suppose… why not! So, pre-slash...
> 
>  
> 
> Just a one-shot - Hope you enjoy!

Danny watched Steve as he slept on the gurney, exhaustion tugging at his own mind. He had no earthly idea what time it was and he’d lost track of how long he had been awake. Not to mention he had no idea what the time difference was between Hawaii and Afghanistan. He knew he had woken up at 6:00am that day, as usual, and the call from Cath had come in the late afternoon. It had taken Joe several hours to arrange transport; that he’d been able to arrange it at all was nothing short of a miracle.

Danny hadn’t really slept on the plane – never mind that he never sleeps well on planes - a military transport is beyond uncomfortable. Not that he could shut down the anxiety and worry swirling in his mind about Steve and whether he’d ever see him alive again.

Once he’d arrived at his destination, there was no relief either. There was too much going on – watching the commandos prep for the retrieval and the tension of waiting after they left - pretty much meant Danny wouldn’t have been able to sleep if someone had smashed him over the head with a sledgehammer.

By his best guess, he had been up close to 40 hours-straight now, and there was probably no end in sight. They weren’t going anywhere until Steve had rested and recovered a bit, and he had no idea how long that would be. He sure wasn’t likely to doze off on this stool – at least he was making a herculean effort not to since if he did, he’d likely fall off and brain himself on the floor. But that was the least of it, really. Mostly, he didn’t want to fall sleep and leave Steve unguarded. He knew they were theoretically in friendly territory, but the CIA was none too pleased with their presence here and the Masters at Arms were watching them like hawks – grim expressions on their faces. Danny felt responsible for Steve and there was no way he was going to close his eyes and leave him with no one to watch his back.

When Danny yawned for the thousandth time, stretching a bit as he did, a sharp pain shot through his right side. He had been ignoring the signals his body had been sending him for quite a while now, so he finally stopped to take stock of how he was feeling. It didn’t take long to come to the conclusion that he felt like crap. He had no idea how much of that was due to sleep-deprivation and stress, and how much was due to the injury he’d sustained a couple of weeks ago.

When they’d been pulled out of the rubble of the parking garage, Danny had tried to maintain the façade that he was OK, but it hadn’t lasted very long. His side was killing him, along with his head and his leg, but he deludedly still hoped he’d just get a quick stitch and be on his way to Maui with Amber. His body had rebelled though, and shortly after his touching scene with Steve, he had collapsed on the sidewalk from shock and internal bleeding. That was bad enough, but the worst part was looking up from where he’d landed on the ground near the ambulance and seeing that Grace had witnessed it, a terrified look on her face.

Despite Steve’s best efforts at disinfecting Danny's wound with industrial cleaner, it had still gotten infected; the piece of shirt Steve had torn off of himself was far from sterile, not to mention duct tape was not a proper dressing. The doctors did agree though, that had Steve not poured the liquid fire on his gut, he’d probably be dead (so he guessed he had to forgive Steve the torture of those few moments). Thanks to Steve, he hadn’t developed sepsis, but the infection he did develop had been bad enough that the doctors kept him in the hospital for four days, on constant IV antibiotics, just to be safe.

Upon discharge about ten(?) days ago, he had been handed a two-week course of the strongest antibiotics available and told to come back every four days for a wound and infection check. Both of the two checks he’d had so far had been ok, but not great. His body, combined with the prescription, was keeping infection in check – but just barely. His doctors were not entirely satisfied with the slight redness and puffiness still evident around the wound. They lectured him about wound care and the importance of changing the dressing regularly, and not missing any of his three daily doses of antibiotic.

Danny took that seriously. He was not an idiot and he knew the importance of completing the full course of medication as prescribed; Grace had been plagued with ear infections as a small child and he’d heard the lectures plenty.

But when he had gotten Cath’s call about Steve, the last thing on his mind had been bandages and antibiotics. He’d been frantic and anxious, and when he stopped at home for five minutes to throw a few things in a bag, his mind had clearly been very scattered (he looked like he’d packed from the J. Crew catalog for Christ’s sake... he'd be embarrassed about how he was dressed here in a war zone if he really gave a fuck what he looked like).  So the antibiotics and bandages had been left forgotten in the glove box of the Camaro, and he hadn’t given them a second thought until just now, when his side pinched and burned.

Shit. This was probably not good. It occurred to him that he was probably well over 40+ hours overdue on both his pills and a dressing change. But there was really nothing for it until they got back to Hawaii – whenever the hell that would be.

Danny put those thoughts aside when it rather suddenly occurred to him that he needed to use the head. He was reluctant to leave Steve, but he couldn’t leave his bladder forever. He looked at Steve, who seemed to be sleeping deeply – or he was unconscious - it was hard to tell. He didn’t want to leave Steve alone, but unfortunately once he had acknowledged his need, Danny found it was becoming more and more urgent. He glanced at the Masters at Arms and slowly approached them where they were still standing stoically at the far end of the room. They looked alert and suspicious.

“I need to use the head, can you keep an eye on my buddy?” Danny asked. All of the military men he knew - Steve not the least among them - had a strong sense of morality and integrity; he figured that putting them in a position of responsibility for Steve would make them less likely to do anything to his incapacitated partner.

One of the soldiers nodded minutely and Danny was reassured when he thought he gave Danny a sympathetic look. He made his way to the bathroom, relieved himself and splashed cold water on his face, trying to wake himself up some more. As he stood looking at his sallow reflection in the mirror, he pulled his shirt up, with some reluctance. Part of him just wanted to disregard the pain in his side, since there was nothing he could do about it now anyway. But another part couldn’t ignore the nagging concern he was beginning to have about his own well-being. Now that Steve was safe, it was time to concede that maybe his own heath was something to worry about.

But once he pulled his shirt free and looked at his side, he regretted it almost immediately. The bandage was stuck to his skin, dried puss and a little bit of blood seeping from it. Danny grimaced as he tugged on the dressing but it was rigidly adhered to him. Danny sighed, ‘forget it,’ he thought; there was nothing he could do about this now, so he tucked his shirt back in and headed back to Steve.

Returning to the med unit, he noticed an open door that looked to be a supply closet. He knew he was probably doing something incredibly stupid, but he ducked inside, hoping he might be able to quickly find a fresh bandage of some sort. He saw something that he thought might fit the bill on an upper shelf and was just reaching up to grab it when he heard the familiar click of a pistol being cocked.

“Don’t move. Put your hands in the air!” a female voice yelled.

Ah… the doctor that had been skirting around Steve all evening. Danny had smiled at her and she had smiled back, telling him that Steve would be OK. Danny had had a fleeting thought, wondering if she was really just a doctor or was possibly also CIA. Maybe this answered that question.

Two soldiers in desert camo rushed in, weapons at the ready, as Danny was moving his hands higher. One of them grabbed him and shoved him roughly against the counter, bending him at a 90 degree angle while pulling his arms behind his back.

Danny winced as his already-aching side was rammed hard into an edge. His breathing stuttered a little as he tried to blink through the pain.

“What are you doing in here?” The doctor asked him, her soft tone from earlier completely gone now.

“Whoa, whoa… stop… look – I was just looking for some bandages! I’m sorry… just… don’t shoot me - please!” Danny could admit that he was a little terrified right now. He was completely out of his element. He’d never been in the military and hadn’t had a lot of interaction with it – his crazy SEAL-partner aside. Add to that, he was in a foreign country on unsanctioned business… it occurred to him that he could easily be ‘disappeared’ and there would be no one to answer for it.

“Why?!” The doctor demanded.

“Why shouldn’t you shoot me?” this seemed like sort of a stupid question to Danny.

“Why do you need bandages?” came the slightly exasperated reply.

“Oh – I … I have a wound that’s overdue for a dressing change – I was just hoping to find a bandage to change it. But, it’s fine, I’m good – I don’t need it.” Danny babbled out quickly, still wincing in pain.

“Where is it?” the doctor now demanded.

Danny wasn't exactly sure what he she was asking; he was so, so tired and he truthfully wasn't tracking well.  “Uh... it looked like there were bandages on the shelf up there..."

"Your _wound_ – where is it?” She seemed to be losing patience quickly now.

“Uh… abdomen, lower right side.”

“Show me.”

The soldier released him and Danny straightened up slowly. Not only was his side aching, making him move carefully, but he didn’t want anyone with a gun to startle and twitch and shoot him by mistake. He started to move his arms around to pull his shirt out.

“Stop! Put your right hand in the air. Use you left hand and slowly reach across and show me.” The doctor/soldier barked.

Danny did as instructed, slowly pulling his shirt from his pants with his left hand. He raised the hem of his shirt and sweater enough to expose the dirty dressing, turning a little to show the doctor. He saw her signal to the two soldiers, who released him completely and stepped away.

“Come back to the med unit and I’ll take care of it.” She nodded to the two others and said, “You’re dismissed, we’re OK here.” Once dismissed they slipped back out through the door.

The doctor - O’ Rourk - her uniform said, put her sidearm in a holster and stepped aside for Danny to pass her and leave the room. He walked just in front of her until they got back to the med unit, and since he was now pretty sure she wasn’t going to shoot him, once there, he walked quickly over to Steve’s bedside. Danny breathed a sigh of relief upon finding his partner seemingly fine and still completely sound asleep.

Across the room, he could see the doctor gathering up supplies. “Come here,” she ordered, as she set some things on the gurney next to Steve’s.

“Thank you, but I’m fine, really…” Danny started.

“Look, whatever the hell is under that bandage, it doesn’t look good. You’re right, you need a dressing change. Now come over here so I can take a look at it.”

“It’s OK, really – plus I’m not in the military – so it’s probably against the rules or something for you to treat me anyway.”

“Yeah well, Hippocratic Oath and all that… You look like shit, so come over here before you collapse and we have to carry you.”

With a glance at the Masters at Arms, Danny did what he was told, sitting down on the exam table.

“Take off your shirt and lie down,” she said, a slightly gentler tone infusing her voice now.

Danny hesitated for a second, though he didn’t know why, exactly. Then he carefully began to extricate himself from his sweater, encumbered by the increasingly sharp pain in his side. Danny saw the doctor was smirking at him a little and he huffed, feeling self-conscious and a little bit ridiculous. “Look, I had five minutes to pack and I am unfamiliar with the appropriate attire for a war zone, OK?”

“Clearly,” she rolled her eyes as Danny unbuttoned his shirt and divested himself of it.

She nudged Danny over onto his back and slipped on surgical gloves, then gently probed around the bandage.

“How long since you changed this dressing last?”

“Uh… I dunno exactly. Maybe two days – maybe a little more?”

Danny hissed as she irrigated the dressing and worked on gently peeling it from his skin, her face taking on a slightly worried expression.

“What happened?” She asked him seriously, her eyes never leaving his abdomen.

“Would you believe a building fell on me and I was impaled by a piece of rebar”? Danny replied, trying for flippant, but he hissed in pain again as the dressing came free.

“Yes, actually, I would,” she said as she looked closely at the newly exposed wound. “That’s a pretty ragged puncture.”

Danny didn’t respond to that, and braced himself as she started to clean around it. A burning pain rocketed through his gut.

“Sorry… you’ve got a pretty good infection going here… I know it hurts.”

“No, it’s all right… it’s fine,” Danny said through clenched teeth.

“Right,” Dr. O’ Rourk replied dubiously. “How long were you in the hospital?”

“Four days – IV antibiotics.”

“Aftercare?”

“1000 mg broad-spectrum antibiotics, three time a day for two weeks.”

“When did you finish?”

“Um… I didn’t exactly finish... I may have missed a few doses.”

“Mr. Williams…”

“It’s Detective, actually,” Danny felt compelled to say that, for some reason.

“… OK, Detective Williams… what exactly does that mean?”

“Look, things happened pretty fast a couple of days ago, and, much like my wardrobe, some things were overlooked due to my hasty departure.”

“How many doses have you missed?” she asked as she put a thermometer in Danny’s ear.

“Um… I’m not exactly sure – I’m a little messed up on time right now – but probably… 5 or 6.”

The thermometer beeped and she looked at the read-out. “101.6. Not good, Detective. Do you have any idea how long you’ve been running a fever?” Danny could read the concern on her face.

“I’m… I’m not sure. Hawaii… the plane… now I’m in friggin Afghanistan… I have no idea if I should be hot or cold.”

She just hummed at that and stepped away from him, crossing to the other side of the room. Danny stole a glance at Steve who was still out cold next to him. When he looked back, he saw Dr. O’ Rourk approaching him with an IV bag, some small vials and needles.

“Hey, whoa!” Danny objected. “No… That's not necessary! You can just give me some pills.”

“Look, Detective. You have an infection in your abdomen. It could turn septic any minute. You also appear to be dehydrated, and are clearly exhausted. You need an IV antibiotic, hydration and sleep, in that order.” Her tone brooked no argument.

Danny was uncomfortable with the situation. He knew he was flagging and needed some rest and medicine, but he felt uneasy about being treated here. In the end, though, he decided he didn’t really have much choice: he could feel his body starting to rebel and he didn’t think he had the stamina to remain conscious much longer. He gave in and gestured for the doctor to go ahead, closing his eyes as she started to prepare his hand for a new IV. It took all of about 30 seconds for Danny’s breathing to even out into the steady inhalations of a man deeply asleep.

Dr. O’ Rourk gave Danny a slightly worried glance as he slipped into unconsciousness, injecting the saline drip with the strongest antibiotics she had on hand. These two were as bad as each other, she thought, glancing between Danny and Steve.

She’d heard rumors about the Commander: He was something of a legendary SEAL. It took serious balls to come to this country to try to carry out your own personal op, and clearly he had them. And while the CIA spooks may have intimated that he was in deep trouble, there wasn’t a soldier on this FOB that wouldn’t have his back in a heartbeat.

The Detective was a bit of a mystery. The man was clearly about to collapse from the old injury, but he had sat guard next to his friend for hours, conveying a fierce protectiveness that she actually found slightly intimidating and kind of endearing. She wondered a little bit about their relationship; they didn’t seem to give off the vibe of being together, but you never knew. Whatever bond was between them, it was obviously very strong. And she was more than a little curious about how a civilian had managed to get himself to Afghanistan to an FOB. Clearly the two of them had some serious contacts.

She sighed to herself, tired from a long day in the med unit with no end in sight. She wasn’t entirely sure how long it would be before either of them were well enough for the long flight back to Hawaii, but she would stay as long as they were here; she felt a pull to make sure these two men left her care in as good of condition as was possible, given the circumstances.

 

5-O 5-O 5-O 5-O 5-O

 

An hour later, Steve stirred from his sleep, a little disoriented. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was and why, and as soon as the memories hit him, he looked to his right, expecting to see Danny on his high perch next to his bed. When he didn’t see him, he wondered if, in fact, he had hallucinated his partner’s presence – that somehow seemed more probable than Danny flying to Afghanistan to find him... though he had done the same thing in North Korea...

He was starting to think he had indeed imagined his conversation with Danny earlier, when turned his head to the left. What he saw caused him to stop, eyes wide: Danny was laying on the gurney next to him, looking half dead and with some sort of IV in his hand.

Steve panicked and started to bolt from his bed, ripping his own IV out of his arm. The Masters at Arms had been watching him closely and reacted a split second after Steve had started moving; they charged him as he tried to extricate himself from his sheet.

 _“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HIM YOU SONS OF BITCHES?"_ Steve yelled as he struggled with the soldiers.

The doctor ran over from the across the room. “Calm down, Commander!”

_“FUCK YOU!  DANNY!… DANNY! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS – IF YOU HURT HIM I SWEAR I WILL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU!”_

Danny was startled from his deep sleep at Steve’s first outburst, but it wasn’t until he heard Steve yell his name that he started to comprehend what was going on. He climbed out of his own bed with a rising level of panic, his IV forgotten, ripping from his hand.

“Steve… Steve… Listen to me - I’m OK – everything’s fine,” Danny tried to reassure his partner, fighting to get past the soldiers to him.

“Danny…!” Steve stopped struggling when he saw Danny alive and awake, but his breath was coming in gasps.

“Yeah, yeah, Steve… I’m OK – everything’s OK,” Danny said as he reached through the two soldiers to grab Steve’s hand. Steve reached out and clutched at Danny.

Once he understood that Danny was OK, Steve virtually collapsed back onto his bed, overwhelmed with relief, but never taking his eyes from Danny’s. “Danny… I thought… I thought they did something to you…” Steve said weakly, sounding slightly confused.

The doctor reassured the soldiers that they were fine, sending them back to their post across the room.

“No – They didn’t do anything Steve. I just was a little dehydrated and Dr. O’ Rourk here was helping me out. Everything is fine, really… relax.” Danny didn’t want to get Steve re-agitate by telling him about the infection. What Steve needed was to rest so they could get the hell out of here, and worrying about Danny would not help.

“OK… OK… you’re sure you’re alright?” Steve asked again, his eyes still not straying from Danny’s.

“Yeah, Steve, yeah… now will you please relax and let this nice doctor put that IV back in your arm?”

Steve lay back on his gurney while the doctor reinserted his IV line, checking his injuries and bandages along the way.

“That was incredibly stupid, Commander,” she chastised him as she finished checking him over. “You could have done yourself serious harm.”

“Sorry,” Steve answered tiredly. “I was worried about Danny.”

“Yeah, I got that. Just try to get some rest, would you please? I think they are looking to put you on a transport out of here soon.”

 

5-O 5-O 5-O 5-O 5-O

 

Two hours later, the doctor gently nudged Steve. “Commander, you need to wake up, your transport leaves in a half hour.”

Steve looked over at Danny, who was sitting on the gurney pulling his sweater over his head. “You OK?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I told you, I’m fine. Listen, I’m gonna hit the head before they move us out of here. Will you be OK if I leave for a minute?”

Steve gave Danny a small smile, “yeah, I'll be fine - go take care of business.” Danny hesitated for a second and then disappeared out the door.

The doctor approached Steve as soon as Danny exited and began to caution him about his injuries and seeing a doctor as soon as he returned to Hawaii.

"Yes, Ma’am,” Steve said, without much thought.

“Listen, Commander, I’m serious. You need to get yourself to a hospital as soon as you arrive stateside, and take your friend with you.” She was giving Steve a pointed look.

That got Steve’s attention. “What? What do you mean?”

“Look,” she said, a quick glance toward the door. “Right now, I’m a hell of a lot more concerned about your friend's condition, than yours.  He has an abdominal wound that doesn't look too good.  When he left Hawaii, he forgot his antibiotics and infection is taking hold again... if the infection gets out of control, it could be life-threatening. He has a fever, and he hasn’t slept more than an hour in the last 48. If it were up to me, I’d keep you two here, but it’s not, so… He’ll need medical intervention as soon as you get back home.”

Steve looked stricken at that. “He said he was OK…” Steve was silently berating himself; when he'd first woken and seen Danny earlier, he had been so relieved to see a friendly face that he hadn't even considered that Danny was still recovering and should not have been traveling half-way across the world for Steve's sake.  This was the second time Danny had risked everything to chase after Steve, and the sudden realization of just how big of a risk that actually was for Danny hit Steve hard.

“Yeah, well, people lie all the time, don’t they? He’s not particularly OK.”

“Can’t you help him?” Steve asked, worry coloring his question.

“I have. I’ve gotten him rehydrated and given him IV antibiotics. But you two have several hours of travel ahead of you and it’s important that he takes care of himself once you land. Do you understand what I’m saying?” She looked closely at Steve, trying to get a read on whether the gravity of the situation had gotten through to him.

Steve thought she must be asking because he probably looked as dazed as he felt right now. His ears were still ringing and he was slightly confused, but he got that Danny needed attention. “Yeah, I understand.”

 

5-O 5-O 5-O 5-O 5-O

 

When they got on the transport plane, Steve saw that Danny was eyeing him, trying to gauge his condition, but he seemed oblivious to the fact that Steve was watching him the same way.

Steve couldn’t help grimacing as he sat down in a seat along the fuselage. Danny sat next to him, and as soon as the plane took off, he said, “Come ‘ere” and gently nudged Steve over onto his back so that he was lying prone across several seats with his head in Danny’s lap.

‘No’ Steve thought, ‘I’m supposed to be taking care of Danny…’ but his thoughts got away from him and he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. Instead, he slipped into an uneasy slumber.

He woke frequently throughout the flight, startled from his sleep by half-dreams and fragments of terrifying memories. And every time he opened his eyes, he saw Danny looking back at him, exhaustion plain to see on his face, murmuring a message of reassurance, and gently running his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Shhhh. It’s OK… you’re safe…. Everything’s fine… go back to sleep,” Danny would sooth. And Steve did, unable to prevent his body from succumbing to the tug of slumber.

Once, Steve had tried to tell Danny to sleep, but Danny just snorted with exhaustion, “Yeah - no… not going to happen on this bucket. You go to sleep, babe, you need the rest.”

The truth was, after years of living and working in extreme conditions, Steve had trained himself to sleep just about anywhere, so each time he closed his eyes he swiftly fell back to fitful dreams.

 

5-O 5-O 5-O 5-O 5-O

 

Apparently Joe had been kept in the loop, because when they landed at the airbase, they saw an ambulance waiting, as well as Chin and Kono, both wearing worried but relieved expressions.

Steve was feeling a little better and he insisted on walking off the plane, but Danny was equally as adamant that he walk directly over to the EMTs. He was surprised at how quickly Steve agreed to that, actually. Once there, Steve voluntarily laid on the gurney and let the EMTs do their job.

“Danny, you’re coming too,” Steve more-or-less commanded him.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” came Danny’s tired reply. After the journey they’d been on together, Danny wasn’t about to let Steve out of his sight.

“Hey,” Steve said to the EMTs before they headed to the hospital, “take a look at my buddy there, too, will ya, he’s got a wound and an infection that the doctors are worried about.”

Danny shot Steve a blazing look. “I’m fine. I’ll see my doctor tomorrow.”

“Hey, Danny, how 'bout we make a deal – I won’t complain, I’ll let these guys and the doctors do their jobs, and you do the same,” Steve bargained.

Danny knew what Steve was doing – it was blatant manipulation – but, if it meant Steve would cooperate, Danny would go along.

As Steve lay on the gurney at the hospital, he pondered what Dr. O' Rourk had said about how little sleep Danny had had in the last few days (Steve had absolutely no idea what day or time it was). Judging by his partner’s appearance, he thought he would drop any second - he looked pale and beyond exhausted.

“Danny, you should sleep,” Steve implored.

Danny just looked at him, eyes glazed. “I’m good – I’ll wait ‘til you’re done and we get you home safe. If I close my eyes now, I might be in here for three days.”

In the end, they were only at the hospital for a few hours, thank god. While Steve was x-rayed, scanned and checked over, Danny was given another round of IV antibiotics, and both were sent home with pain killers, _more_ antibiotics, and a strict admonition to rest for the next several days. Steve agreed with little resistance, but Danny thought he’d believe that when he saw it.

For his part, the doctors had looked at Danny’s wound, and grumbled a bit, wanting him to stay for observation. But his temperature had come down to 99.9, so he figured things were moving in the right direction, and he was safe to leave.

When they got to Steve’s house, Chin helped Steve out of the car and into the house. Kono lagged behind to hover around Danny. “Will you give it a rest already? I’m fine,” he complained.

“You are not fine. You’re sick and you have a fever and you haven’t slept in god-knows how long. If you don’t fall over between here and the house, I’d be surprised.” Danny sighed, but said nothing – she was probably right.

By the time Danny got inside, Steve was situated on his couch, staring at nothing. Danny walked in and eased himself down next to him. It was funny that he hadn’t even considered going home to his own house, and no one else had suggested it either. He guessed they all knew that there was no way Danny was going to leave Steve now… not yet.

Kono moved immediately into the kitchen and came back with two sandwiches and glasses of milk. Milk! Danny was thinking a beer sounded much better at this point.

“No beer,” she said as though she read his mind. “You’re both on antibiotics and pain meds - it’s contra-indicated.”

“Oh… contra-indicated?” Danny said. “That’s a very big word Officer Kalakaua!” And Kono smirked, though with a bit of sadness in her eyes.

“Of course you realize that we can just get up and go to the kitchen to get our own beer once you’re gone?” Danny asked. He wasn’t sure where he was getting the energy to banter with her – must just be part of his genetic make-up.

She frowned a little at that. “Well, don’t. And right now, you both need to eat.”

It hit Danny that he was actually voraciously hungry, and he found himself wolfing down the sandwich in a few bites. He guzzled every last bit of the milk as well.

Steve just nibbled at his sandwich, chewing slowly. He seemed disinterested in the food, but Danny also guessed that with the bruises on his face, his jaw was probably screaming.

Kono and Chin stuck around for a while, asking if they needed anything, and after much reassurance and thanks, they quietly slipped out the door.

Danny sat staring out at the night, vaguely wondering exactly what night it was. His eyes blurred and lost focus; he kept thinking that he needed to get Steve upstairs and then into bed.

“Danny,” he heard Steve say softly.

He blinked his eyes and turned to look at his partner. Had he just fallen asleep sitting up? “Huh?”

"Lie down," Steve said, as he tugged on Danny, trying to gently pull him over.

“No, Steve… we need to get you to bed…” Danny slurred.

But Steve just kept tugging and repeated, “come on, Danno, lie down.”

This time, Danny gave in and tilted over onto his left side to lay his head in Steve’s lap. He lifted his legs onto the couch and curled into a loose fetal position.

“Sleep, Danno,” Steve murmured as he wove his fingers through Danny’s messy hair, a reverse-image of the long flight home. Danny couldn’t resist the pull of exhaustion any longer; he closed his eyes and was lost to the world within seconds.

Steve looked at his sleeping partner, marveling again that Danny had followed him to the ends of the earth. But, this was what they did, he supposed, they cared for each other and they took care of each other. Danny had been there for him when Steve had needed him, since the day they met, and vice versa. It occurred to him that the loyalty and trust that had developed so quickly between them was a rare and special gift. Steve considered it a moment and smiled down at his partner, feeling well-loved.

He had a vague thought that he was a little uncomfortable, but there wasn’t anything in the world that would have made Steve move and disturb his sleeping partner. Danny had come for him; he had protected him and taken care of him…and now Steve was going to return the favor. He set the alarm on his watch for six hours so they could both wake and take their antibiotics, and then he put his head back on the couch and drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I read a funny thing online after 4.21 about Danny looking very “J. Crew” in Afghanistan. It cracked me up and I used it here. I’m sorry I don’t know whom to credit.


End file.
